Rock, meet hard place.
The last thing I want to do is give up my internship. I worked my ass off to land it. But I’m smart enough to know that without intervention, it’s only a matter of time before Linus releases a royal statement about me to the press. And once that tea is spilled… there’ll be no getting it back into the cup. I’ll be stuck forever in this life.
The heir apparent.
The Crown Princess.
As far as I can see… this negotiation is the only sliver of a chance I’ve got at hanging onto my dreams. My life. My identity. My home.
“There must be something else,” Linus interjects suddenly, seeming to read my thoughts. “Something of equal or greater value to you, that I can offer in exchange for the sacrifices you’re making.”
My eyes hold his for a long moment. “There is one thing.”
“Name it.”
“My house…Nina’shouse.”
He stills at the mention of Mom. “What about it?”
“The mortgage…” I suck in a sharp breath. “With the internship on top of my classes, I had to cut back on my waitressing hours. It’s been tough to keep up with the payments.”
“Ah. And what is the outstanding balance?”
I pause. “Around a hundred-thousand dollars.”
“I see.”
“It wasn’t Mom’s fault. The house was nearly paid off. But when she died…” I look up into his eyes, shame swallowing me whole. “Between the hospital bills and my school expenses, I had no choice but to consolidate our debt. A second mortgage was the only option I could think of to make ends meet.”
“I understand.” He considers me gravely. “I assume you would like me to absorb that balance, as part of our agreement.”
The only thing I hate more than asking for help is asking for money. It makes me feel dirty. Brimming with mortification and wounded pride that I can’t handle things on my own. But that feeling doesn’t compare with the devastation I experience whenever I contemplate losing the house.
Every room, every wall, every floorboard is embedded with memories of my mother. Cooking elaborate meals together in the tiny kitchen, reading by the old wood stove in the back room, watching black and white movies beneath a blanket on chilly autumn nights. I can’t bear the thought of losing my last remaining link to her.
“Yes,” I whisper, my voice cracking. “If you help with the house, I’ll do whatever you want.”
“Then consider it done,” Linus agrees easily, as though I’ve asked to borrow a fiver for a carton of milk, not a payment-in-full on my mortgage. “I’ll have a check sent to the bank tomorrow.”
Relief floods through me. Maybe tonight, for the first time in months, I’ll be able to fall asleep without tossing and turning, dreaming of envelopes marked PAST DUE in red ink, worrying about the dire financial hole I’ve dug myself into.
“Thank you,” I murmur.
“Is there anything else you want?”
I shake my head, at a loss for words.
“Then terms are as follows: I will assume financial responsibility for your house, arrange for some of your personal belongings to be delivered here — along with Mr. Harding, if he so chooses — and assist you in finding a new internship, in the event of abdication. In return, you will live here — and, when it’s deemed safe, at the palace — until my coronation in one month. You will be fully at my disposal for formal events, public appearances… whatever I see fit. You will take twice dailyprincess lessons, as you so charmingly christened them. And, above all, you will keep an open mind about the role you would play, should you choose to accept your position as my heir.” He pins me with a grave stare. “Are we are in agreement?”
“Yes,” I say, exhausted by the mere prospect of the weeks that lie ahead of me. “We are in agreement.”
“Shall we shake on it?” He extends a hand across his desk. “To make it official?”
Slowly, I reach out and slide my palm into his sturdy grip. He doesn’t pump my hand up and down in a normal shake — he simply holds it, squeezing lightly as he stares into my eyes. It’s a strangely poignant moment, all things considered. As is the realization that, if Linus weren’t my biological father…
I think I’d probably like him.
“Thank you, again,” I say haltingly, pulling back. I tuck my hands beneath my thighs. “For not laughing at me. For hearing me out. For…negotiating.”